


Somewhere in the Meadow

by makingitwork



Series: Bughead Prompts [17]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Abusive Relationships, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hurt Jughead, Hurt and comfort, Jughead is in an abusive relationship, Oblivious Jughead, baker betty, bughead - Freeform, not with bughead, pining Jughead, pining betty, preslash, teacher jughead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 15:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15342795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: Baker Betty shouldn't pick favourite customers.She does.





	Somewhere in the Meadow

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by the wonderful/beautiful/sunflowers-personified HufflepuffBetty: sweetheart I know your prompt was more for a fluffy fic but this is what happened! I will definitely do a much much much fluffier fic for you in the future if this doesn't sate the baker craving! 
> 
> Mwah! Enjoy beauties!

"Where's my favourite girl?" Comes the loud, familiar voice of Jughead Jones, and Betty stands up, brushing the flour from her apron and beams at him, waving across the counter. 

"Morning, my favourite customer," she grins; already sliding over to the cupcake section. It's alright to say aloud today, since the store has only just opened; it's a bright and sunny eight a.m and no one is in yet; just Betty and her baking. She'd gotten in around six to put a few fresh batches in was just in the middle of rolling out some more dough. Jughead was in a white shirt tucked into black trousers, a satchel over his chest, and his hair combed back neatly. "You want your usual?" 

"I'll take twelve of whatever you recommend," he declared fancifully, leaning against the counter on his crossed arms. "Need my energy this morning. Gonna try and explain the subtext of  _To Kill a Mockingbird_ to freshman today. I might not make it out alive." 

She laughed; plucking two of the peanut butter ones she knew he liked, and one of the chocolate and vanillas ones she'd made just this morning. "C'mon, you'll blow these kids minds with your in-depth analysis," she said, as part of their usual repertoire. After some deliberation, she popped a strawberry cupcake into the box, and instead of sealing it shut as she would for other customers, she passed it to him open. His salivated look of orgasmic pleasure was enough to make her blush, and she watched with barely concealed awe as he picked up a peanut butter one and popped it into his mouth whole; moaning in bliss. "Any plans after school?" 

"Mmhmm," he nodded, mouth full of cupcake. After swallowing hard and fishing his wallet out of his trousers, he continued; "Rachel and are are marathoning the Kill Bill's down at the old plaza." 

Betty cooed, tilting her head happily as she took his money. "You guys are so cute, I swear."

He shrugged bashfully, carefully closing the box and sliding it into his satchel. "What about you? The world's best baker can't be lonely on a Friday night." 

Betty smiled wryly, turning her attention to the smell of the cinnamon rolls coming from the oven. "Just gonna stay in; binge Stranger Things and make some toffee pastries." 

His moan was sinful. "Your toffee pastries are amazing, Betty. How you're single, I'll never know. You've got the way to a man's heart down to a science." He brushed stray crumbs from his lips and headed for the door. Just before he left, he presented himself to her, making sure he was presentable and school-fit and she gave him a cheery thumbs up. "I'll see you Monday! Have a good one!" 

"Have a good day, Jughead. Educate our future!" She called, laughing; the bell tinkling as the door swung shut behind him.

The shop felt painfully empty once he was gone. 

 

 _Betty's Bakery_ was the prettiest shop on the highstreet. Complete with pink ruffles and a banner, a menu handwritten on a chalkboard outside and an inviting aura the moment you looked in through the glass windows. The walls inside were of a honeyed gold and there were only two small tables in the small shop; for people to wait as she fetched their delicacies. The kitchens behind the counter were large and the many ovens always had something delicious billowing out of them. The glass cabinets displaying the cupcakes, muffins, pastries, croissants and cakes lit up the food; so the chocolate sprinkles, vanilla sponges and sugar dusted cream-filled puffs drew even the most miserly fellow to bring out his money. The small, silver bell above the door was the sound of happiness, sugar and home spun food. Betty had started her business a few years ago; in her early twenties. Using the money she'd saved and some borrowed from her dearest friend Veronica; to buy the fine piece of real estate in the centre of the street. She was in profit, doing quite well if she did say so herself, and was slowly paying back Veronica and putting some money into her savings.

There was a cottage, near the edge of town towards the forest; nestled in meadows and honeysuckles and foxgloves that she wanted to buy. Doing things on her own; controlling her own life and her own business gave her a level peace that she'd never had before. A sense of purpose and self-driven independence that made her feel complete around the edges; no longer fraying as she had been under her mother's thumb. 

It was late evening now in New York, and she was wiping down the counters as the late blue dusk simmered down around the city, ready to close up. It had ben a hectic day, and she could feel that her ponytail band slipped down her hair, and she was a little slower on her feet. She looked up with surprise as the bell tinkled at the door, and looked up to see Jughead; out of breath and panting; leaning against the door. She took a small moment to look over him; he was in his casual clothes now, a plaid shirt and jeans, his hair flopping every which way. She preferred him like that. He looked softer. 

"Don't close yet," he panted; doubling over and wheezing. "Need cupcakes. Cupcake emergency." 

She laughed, rolling her eyes fondly and collected up the remaining cupcakes of the day. "Oh? And what's the emergency  _this_ time?" 

He shot her a look, and collapsed into one of the seats. There was a light sheen of sweat covering his face. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye; wondering if he'd really run here. "Rachel's on her...um...lady time? She needs your deliciousness." 

"You are an incredible boyfriend," Betty said, not for the first time, as she loaded the cupcakes into a red box. "But 'lady time'? Really? Aren't you a teacher?" 

"Not a sex-ed teacher!" He squawked, but pulled out his wallet and some cash. "What would you prefer? I have a rather saucy history metaphor if you'd like to hear it? Her Harry Truman is having a red scare? The Bolsheviks are in the capital? T-"

"Don't." Betty cut him off between incredulous laughter, as she set the box in front of him. "You are ridiculous." 

He rolled his eyes, taking the box with one hand and sliding her the money. "Keep the change. I gotta go home." He saluted her, getting to his feet though he looked exhausted. "See you, baker girl," 

"I do have a name, and I know you know it." 

"Aw, but our nicknames are so much more fun," he grinned remorselessly, ducking out. She picked up the twenty dollar bill and smoothed it out thoughtfully. Jughead had always been her best customer; one of the first she'd ever had. And he'd so freely complimented everything she made; eager to try every new item written on the menu. His stomach was a bottomless pit, and she'd known him for about a year. Last summer he'd spent nearly every day at one of the tables; making extra money by marking exam transcripts. He'd eaten cupcakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and even helped wipe down at the end of the day. They'd become friends, though they'd never seen each other outside Betty's shop. She'd never met Rachel either, even though the two of them had been dating when she met him. 

She wondered what Rachel was like. Wondered if she was good enough. 

She shook her head; frustrated with herself, and went to add the money to the till. 

 

"I will never understand how you aren't at least three sizes bigger." Betty said in awe; watching as Jughead scarfed down another selection of pastries. There was icing dripping down his chin, and he shot her a smug look. 

"I know you're jealous of my hot bod, Betty." He snorted, reaching for his water bottle. He winced a little, rubbing at his shoulder. "I swear some of the older kids go further than disrespecting teachers. I think they actually want to hurt us."

Betty laughed, shutting off the oven and throwing away the used baking sheets. It was nearing nine o'clock, and she'd been delaying closing the store for as long as she could. She had nowhere to go but home after all. But now she really was exhausted. She slumped towards him and sat in the seat next to him; back aching. "Don't you have to go home soon, Jug? Not that I don't like hanging out with you..." 

"But it's such a sugary haven here," he teased, though he began dutifully shuffling all his stuff together. "Sorry, I just get a lot more done here." 

Betty could understand that. It was very peaceful. She watched as he slid his stuff into his bag. He looked tired; she noted. As tired as she felt. Which was very. "You need to be eating real food for dinner, Jug. Not cupcakes. A lasagne, some take out, even." 

He stood up, rolling his eyes at her. "Such a mother-hen," he teased, flicking her forehead. "I'll be back tomorrow morning; early. So be ready with a selection of danishes! Take my money!" 

She laughed loudly, and they headed to the door together. He lingered whilst she locked up, and she wondered if he and Rachel had had a fight. He seemed hesitant to go home. But she didn't mind the company, and she walked with him to the end of the street where they parted ways. He gave her a saluted wave, and she wiggled her fingers at him. She could hear his laughter echo down the street. 

 

The thought, as it comes to her, surprises the hell out of her for a number of reasons. 

Firstly, the fact that it's never occurred to her before when it makes a worrying amount of sense. Secondly, she can't believe how stupid she is. Thirdly, she might be wrong. Fourthly, what does she know? 

Jughead could have gotten that ugly bruise along his jaw by any number of reasons. 

"Juggie..." she whispered, as he walked through the door, bell chiming behind him. He shot her a wry smile, and a half shrug. He was in his casual clothes on the sunny Saturday. "What happened?" 

He walked up to the counter and laughed softly. "I fell off my motorbike. Honestly, I don't think I should be allowed to ride the damn thing." 

Betty laughed, though she didn't entirely believe him, and fetched the danishes from the oven. He ate them vigorously with wide bites and ample compliments, but she couldn't shake the thought away. It was ridiculous, surely. Surely not. She didn't know what she was talking about. The bruise was splotchy, and far too dark against his pale skin, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from it. Luckily the rush of Saturday customers came in, and she was too busy to worry anymore. 

 

Months go by without incident, and she forgets about it. She runs a business after all, and she spends her time trying new recipes, ignoring Veronica's offers of blind dates and binging Dynasty on Netflix. She splashes for a small advert in the paper, and frames the page on her wall when it comes out better than she thought. Business booms, and she sees Jughead everyday. his skin clear, a grin on his face and a satchel slung over his chest. They banter lightly, he buys a ridiculous amount of cupcakes and treats and complains about whatever he's teaching his class that week. She in turn tells him about the latest plot twist in her favourite show, and has him taste test her latest creations. He isn't much help, as everything to him is delicious, but he's a confidence boost all the same. 

Life is good. Life is sunny. Life consists of cupcakes, Jughead, Netflix and Veronica. What more could she need?

Until he comes in one morning, with a cut above his eyebrow. Betty noticed it immediately; angry and red and too close to his eye. Not particularly deep; it'd heal just fine but...She looked over him. He was in his shirt and trousers, ready for school, not at all rumpled. He couldn't have received it on a motorbike. It wasn't possible. Besides; she was pretty sure she'd seen him walk here. She wasn't sure she'd ever even seen him ride a motorbike now that she thought about it. Thoughts of the bruise came flooding back to her, and she bit her lip; hard, as he swaggered to the counter. "My usual, sunshine of my life," he greeted as if nothing was wrong.

Betty gave a pointed look to his red cut. "Another motorbike accident?" 

He waved her off. "You exaggerate. It's a scratch." 

"From your motorbike?" She pressed. 

He gave her a weird look, before his eyes slid away and he half nodded. "Sorta. Tripped walking past it this morning; caught my forehead on the metal cuff of the wheel." 

"Huh." 

"Betty..." he shook his head, leaning back off the counter and rocking on his heels. He looked uncomfortable now, and she tried to soften her features. 

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, shaking her head. "It's none of my business. I'll get your usual." 

"Thank you." He sighed stiffly, and they were silent as he handed her the money, took the box and left. 

Betty couldn't shake the thoughts away, anymore. As she sat on her sofa at home, knees tucked under her and cat rubbing up against her, she wondered what was happening. 

 

 

"This is  _so_ cute!" Came a gushing voice, and Betty whirled around from the oven; surprised. It was early and the shop had only just opened and the only customer she usually got at this time was Jughead. She had flour in her hair after a mistake with the pancakes, and she wiped at them, heading out to the till. She froze. Jughead was standing there, in a long sleeved jumper, with a girl beside him. She had her arm around his waist, and a bright friendly smile. She was pretty, Betty decided, though every single hair on her body was on edge, with sleek black locks and wide green eyes that matched Jughead's. 

Betty summoned her own smile, and wiped her hands on her apron front; nodding. "Thanks," she beamed, eyes flickering between the two of them. She'd never seen Jughead look so uncomfortable. He looked reluctant to even be in here. 

"I'm Rachel," the girl said easily, confirming Betty's suspicions. "Forsythe used to talk about this place, and I thought I'd treat him! Since he's not allowed to come here anymore and all." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and shot Betty a conspiratorial wink. As if she was part of the joke. 

"Oh." Betty nodded; voice laced with confusion. She tried to meet Jughead's eyes, but he wouldn't look at her. He was staring hard at the floor. "He's not allowed to come here anymore?" 

"We're watching his weight, right, hon?" She asked rhetorically with a smile, patting Jughead's flat stomach. He nodded slightly.

Betty tried to keep her jaw from dropping. What the  _fuck._ That wasn't...there were so many things wrong. She could hardly believe it. Jughead had been coming here for a year without telling his girlfriend? And his girlfriend was obviously making his decisions for him- he looked- she'd never seen him look so unhappy. "Right." She whispered, unsure what to do. "What would you like?" 

"So much to choose from!" The girl beamed, looking over the counter and licking her lips. "I'll have a blueberry cupcake and Forsythe will have...hmm...give him a coffee flavoured crepe. He loves those. Right, babe?" 

Again, a silent nod. 

Betty frowned. Jughead  _hated_ coffee-flavoured crepes. It was one of the few things he'd never order. Coffee just didn't sit well with him. She got them out anyway, taking her time about it as she slid them into white paper bags. Rachel took them both with a grateful smile, complimenting Betty on how gorgeous everything looked. She was being disarmingly nice, and Betty watched with fear laced around her heart as the two of them walked out. 

Jughead didn't come back for a while after that. 

 

She didn't know what to  _do._ She paced in her bedroom, complaining emphatically to her cat; Custard, who just meowed back rather pathetically. She wanted to help Jughead. He needed help. But she didn't even know his second name, and she didn't want to go barging into his school to confront him. Also, she didn't  _know_ for sure. She was fairly certain, but...but Veronica's words rang strong in her head. The police won't do anything without evidence, and the cut and bruise were long gone now. Well, maybe. She didn't know. She hadn't seen him in so long. She'd called up the police on a non-emergency number, and a man with a bored, but sympathetic voice had informed her there was nothing he could do unless she filed an official disturbance complaint. 

She felt as if she was on the outskirts of a circle. Within it- within it so she could do something, but not far enough into its centre to know what. She felt as if in limbo, and collapsed onto her bed in exhaustion. She missed him. Missed him fiercely, and she didn't know what to do. Custard licked her hand, and she snuggled him into her chest; wishing she could just do  _something._

 

 

 

It was raining hard on a dark Thursday afternoon; so hard that no one was outside. Betty sat at one of her tables, reading one of her favourite books, and still pondering the Jughead situation, when the bell chimed. She looked up and there he was; soaking wet but real. She got to her feet and rushed over to him, scanning his face. But it was clear of marks; flawless as usual. "Jug," she whispered, tugging him towards the table. He sat down easily enough and she hurried about making him tea, and soon he was inhaling the steaming cup. "Are you- Jug, where've you been-"

"Stop, Betty," he said; voice pained. His eyes were greener than she'd remembered. She'd dulled him in her memories. Her brain hadn't done him justice. "I'm here to say that it's not gonna- i'm not going to be able to leave her."

"What?" She whispered; eyes wide and swimming. "What?" 

"Betty..." he closed his eyes tight, hands shaking on the table top. She grabbed them in her own. They were freezing cold and sodden. "I...I  _can't._ Okay?" 

"But why? Why not? She's horrible, Jughead!" She cried, dismayed. Couldn't he see that? 

He pulled away from her, he was trembling now. "Betty stop. I came as a courtesy alright? I love her." 

She scoffed loudly. "Well she doesn't love you, Jughead!" She exclaimed, and regretted it at soon as the words were out of her mouth. His face crumpled, and he looked sadder than she had ever seen. He was standing up then, away from her and back towards the rain. She tried to call him back, but he'd withdrawn from her. She could hardly reconcile him. This Jughead with the one who had thrown whipped cream at her a few months ago. They seemed like two different people, and she couldn't understand it. She could just feel the gaping hole in her heart, as she watched him disappear into the afternoon torrent. 

 

Veronica tried to soothe her. Tried to tell her that  _he has to figure it out on his own, Betty_ but it didn't soothe her. She saw him, or thought she did, once or twice walking past the shop windows but he never came inside. Once, she even walked to the school she knew he worked at; paced outside for a few minutes before scurrying back before her lunch break was even over. What did it mean that he  _couldn't_ leave her? Did that mean that he knew? He knew what she was doing? He knew what kind of relationship he was in? But if that was true- why wasn't he leaving? She didn't  _understand._

After as much worrying as she could muster, she did the only thing she thought she could do. She baked. She baked her heart out, and had Veronica find out where Jughead lived. Veronica was good like that, contacts everywhere and technology at her disposal that Betty couldn't even begin to understand. She made a few of Jughead's favourites and sent them in a box. She didn't write a note- mainly because she'd tried so hard to come up with something but no words seemed good enough. She never heard anything back from it, but Jughead never stormed into the shop to yell at her, and neither did Rachel. So she kept sending them. One box a month. It was therapeutic in a way, and she hoped that whatever was happening; the crunch of the icing or the softness of the inner-layers, would help in any way. 

After six boxes: she got a message back. 

It was just a letter, with her name neatly printed in block capitals on the front. It read:

**I've left her. I love you. I need time.**

**Jughead.**

It was an admission, a promise, and it made her smile; her heart blossoming and unfurling like a flower in a summer field.

 

It was late august, and she was making raspberry scones. She squirted the gooey filling deep inside the puffed shells and watched as they fattened happily under her attention. She didn't turn when the bell chimed on the door; it had been a fairly busy morning, sunlight streaming in through the windows along with the steady flow of customers, and so when she did turn to see Jughead standing by the counter, she nearly dropped her tray. 

He offered her a half smile, and she observed with a large amount of delight that he looked good. Really good, not in a handsome sort of way (though he did) but in a healthy sort of way. She hurriedly set down her tray and slid off her bright blue oven mitts, rushing around the counter and embracing him in a tight hug. "Juggie," she whispered. "I'm sorry-"

"I'm okay." He whispered into her ear, lashes a little wet and clumpy as they pressed into her cheek. "Your cupcakes got me through the worst of it." 

She laughed; a croaky, but genuine thing, as she pulled back and looked up at him. "I have so much to say I barely know where to start." 

"There's a lot to talk about, my favourite baker," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "I'm hoping you'll take the day off so I can...I was hiding a lot of things, back then. I...I'm still in the process of getting better, but I'd...I think it'd help if I told you everything. If you want to hear it-"

"I do." She said ardently, nodding. "I really do." 

She closed up shop early, and they walked out into the sun together. 

 

A long time later, a baker and a teacher live in a small cottage on the edge of a meadow. It's surrounded by foxgloves and wildflowers and honeysuckles that smell almost as sweet as the cookies that rest on the window sill. The baker bakes and the teacher teaches; he reads her his student's essays before bed, and she feeds him peanut butter test-cakes in the mornings. They kiss at the door before work, and they kiss at the door after work. They kiss in the kitchen after dinner, and they kiss in bed before falling asleep. 

They also kiss during...other things. 

But for now, the sun shines brightly onto a thatched roof and a fat cat named Custard pounces after a butterfly amidst the daisies. 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my your comments on my last fic *fans self* you guys! You get me so flustered I love you so much! 
> 
> Love you all so much!!!! 
> 
> Prompt/Comment/declaration of love- I want it all! 
> 
> disclaimer: abusive relationships vary and there's never really just a simple fairytale solution and that's not what this is: it's more about hope and reassurance. The fairytale like description at the end represents positivity, not necessarily perfection. because life isn't perfect; it's a series of highs and lows and lots of middle ground- hopefully, Jughead's experienced his lows, and Betty's here to take him through the highs :) xx

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Podfic Somewhere in the Meadow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15906486) by [HufflepuffBetty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HufflepuffBetty/pseuds/HufflepuffBetty)




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